The Pirate, The Blacksmith, His Wife and Her Lover
by Accidental Human Contact
Summary: A story of decay. Response to a fic-in-an-hour challenge. Implied WxE, ExN and WxJ. v. mild slash implied. COMPLETED


Title: The Pirate, The Blacksmith, His Wife, And Her Lover

Author: Accidental Human Contact

Pairing: W/E implied, E/N, J/W implied

Rating: R

Author's Note: Written to help clear a block I was having a couple of months ago. Was dedicated to webcrow at the time. 

Fic-in-an-hour Challenge from  _stormy_underland.

Rejection

Lover

Frustration

Ashes

Comfort

_Portrait of a Lady_

 I watch her, sighing gentle breathless sighs, delicate hands deftly working needle and thread. Soft light filters through the parlor window, shading her an elegant silhouette against the hazy afternoon glow. Her skirts fall in folds across her lap to the floor, and the finery of our belongings suitably frames her loveliness. She is the very picture of all things gentle and graceful in this world. For a moment, my heart vaguely aches with an almost forgotten pang. Without turning to acknowledge me, her lilting voice pleads of me, "Will, darling, can you fetch me a glass of water, please?" A habitual smile pulls at my mouth to answer her. "Of course, Elizabeth." Measured paces carry me to the cabinet, upon which our fine crystal is set so beautifully. Pouring the sparkling pure liquid into a glass for her, I take a sip myself, but all I can taste is ashes. 

_The Perfect Gentleman_

 "Why will you not touch me?" she cries, night shift in disarray. She lifts a trembling hand to frame his chin and for a brief second he stills under the contact, before jerking his head roughly away. Eyes wide, she pleads, "Will you not even look at me anymore? Will…" placing a hand across her lips, she struggles with her tears, trying not to cry out aloud. A ragged sob escapes her as she looks at her husband, head turned, fists clenched, reading rejection in every taut line of his body. At her breathy gasp, his head comes round. He reaches for her "Elizabeth, don't…" then checks the motion, hand falling away mid-air. They stand, frozen, simply watching each other. "What will become of us, Will? What will become of us?" He turns and walks away with out another word, because she already knows the answer. A love that blazes will, set against time and the mundane trivialities of life, invariably burn itself out.

_An Affair to Remember_

HER

 Shifting in my chair, I smile at Will as he licks at the thick sauce running down his chin. 

My body still burns from hands that traced lines of fire across my skin. 

I absently carve a slice of tender meat away from the bone and it melts in my mouth. 

*His tongue swiping broad strokes across my own, twining together in an unconscious echo of our bodies. * 

Carelessly swirling dark wine around my glass, I stare into the thick liquid that catches the candlelight, burning it a glowing red. 

*His eyes burn with heady emotion as he stares down at me, gasping my name in hot breaths across my shoulder. * 

I look up to meet Will's steady gaze. He smiles politely in return, but his eyes say nothing at all. 

HIM

I meet Elizabeth's slightly unfocused stare head on. I feel curiously disconnected.

My wife is sleeping with Norrington.

I wonder if that knowledge should affect me more than it appears too. 

This really is an excellent meal. I must remember to compliment the kitchen staff.

_Dream A Little Dream Of Me_ 

 He still dreams of her sometimes. How could he not? Together, they shone with an almost painful intensity. 

*Slim hands dance their way down his chest and over his stomach to rest against tense thighs. Soft laughter creates a moist heat just north of where he hungers for contact. Groaning his frustration he tangles blunt fingers through golden waves, gentle pressure guiding her lower. Soft lips accompany sucking warmth and he's lost, free hand lifting to join its twin in the thick thatch of hair. His fist closes around a beaded braid and he threads the ornaments through shaking fingers…* 

Face twisted, eyes clenched tight, Will groans his completion aloud to an empty bed.         

_Event Horizon_   

 Will pushes himself to his feet, leaving his desk to stand by the window. He doesn't hear her enter, only becoming aware of her presence beside him as she lays a gentle hand against his back, head coming to rest on his shoulder. He smiles at the comforting contact, running a hand through her unbound hair, eyes never leaving their mark. Together they watch the constant shift of the ocean as the sun sinks below the horizon. She turns away, tugging at his arm. "Come on Will, dinner's about to be served and Father's asking after you." 

"Of course." He gently pulls his arm free of her and strides ahead, smoothing out the fall of his shirt. She hesitates a moment longer, staring back out the window. Every day…

_The End Is The Beginning Is The End_

 One day, he doesn't come home. Elizabeth politely waits for him at lunch, but he never shows. Assuming he's simply lost track of time overseeing work at the forge again, she eats her fill without him. She is supposed to be meeting her lover today, but when her husband fails to appear anytime during the afternoon, she cancels. She sends for him at the smithy, only to find he disappeared from his workroom around noon. Concerned, she struggles to think of anywhere else he might be. As afternoon begins to fade into twilight, vague unease clutches at her chest and she hurries upstairs to his bedroom. Everything is exactly as he left it. She picks up his shirt, discarded carelessly on the floor the night before. Elizabeth cradles the fabric that still smells of Will against her. Still, she is unable to shake the feeling that something is wrong. Then it comes to her. The study. She runs from his room, legs tangling in the long skirt of her dress. Throwing open the door, she pushes past the heavy desk to the window… and there is no mistaking the ship that disappears with the sun over the horizon.


End file.
